WARNING: This blog is about suicide. Please read this all the way to the end before messaging or commenting. Thank you.
Disclaimer: I am not a mental health professional. Nothing on this website is meant to take the place of proper medical care. If you need help, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Hotline, 24 hours a day, at 1-800-273-8255 or SAMHSA’s National Helpline, 1-800-662-HELP (4357),(also known as the Treatment Referral Routing Service)
by Kearson Mary Albrecht
When some people hear about people who commit suicide, one of the first reactions is usually “How can someone do that?”
How can someone put their loved ones through the pain and turmoil? How can you get so far gone that death is your best option? Especially if you have a child or multiple children in the picture, how can you just pull the curtain on that? No matter how bad your situation is, wouldn’t it be better to just walk away than die?
It’s so easy to play armchair judge and jury when you don’t live it, isn’t it?
I can’t speak for anyone else, but I can tell you how this has happened to me.
It happens when you feel like no one is listening… when you call out and no one is there, or you get the inevitable response of eye-rolling or accusations of being an attention whore or how other people have it worse and you should be grateful. Thanks, by the way. That shit never occurred to me. I’m all better now. Problem solved.
I tried to kill myself in high school. I don’t really recall why anymore. Hormones. Loneliness. Who knows? I was 15 or 16 and I couldn’t process my life. I learned then that the only thing worse than trying to kill yourself and succeeding was trying to kill yourself and failing. Can’t even get that shit right. Loser.
I didn’t know what true hell was until I got older.
I spent over a decade trying to find something, anything, to hang onto. But nothing was good enough. I could rationalize away any feeling I had for anything, and everything else I broke in very intentional and epic fashion. Moments of happiness were fleeting blips of light in a nightmare landscape of abyss.
I wanted better, but didn’t think I deserved it, so I strapped myself in and began slowly drinking myself to death everyday waiting for it all to be over.
Then I got pregnant with my son at 28 years old.
Anyone that knows me knows what a rollercoaster that was. Detoxing while you’re pregnant is a special hell I would wish on no one.
I’ve done my best to be a better person for my son, because he didn’t ask for any of this. Not me. Not his father. The kid deserves better. I try, but I feel like I fail most of the time.
The trouble is I’m not a good person. I never have been. I probably never will be. I’m not being self-deprecating. It really is true.
I am capable of doing good things, don’t get me wrong. I am capable of great acts of kindness and care. I have taken care of people, comforted people, given of my time and resources without expectation of reward.
But it’s not my default setting.
My default setting is to be disgusted with everyone and everything. I am cruel. I am judgmental. I am selfish. I am unfair. This terrible side of my character is an itch that I struggle not to scratch, because once I start, I keep going until I bleed…until everyone bleeds.
I don’t know why other people think suicide is the solution, because I can’t speak for them. I can only speak for myself.
I’m tired…tired of feeling lonely and useless, tired of feeling like I have to beg for attention, and even when I swallow my pride and try, I still get silence. I don’t want to be THAT person.
With all of these tools for communication, you would think someone, anyone, would answer. But so often there is only silence, where I am left to watch the world turn while I wonder what happened to my life and how I got here and why I can’t make it change. Why does every road seem to lead here?
I just want to live and be happy and I can’t. I’m terrible at it. I want things I can’t have, and I’m incapable of being happy with the blessings I have been given. Nothing will ever be good enough. It never has been. It never will be, because I am broken. I am evil and ungrateful.
I love my son, and all I have ever wanted is what’s best for him. But I am not what’s best for him. I am a monster, and every day I feel my ability to parent him slip from my grasp. I have no patience for him anymore. No kindness. He cries so much now. We both do. I don’t know how to give him what he needs, whatever that might be.
My heart hurts for him. He deserves better. That should be enough for me to BE better, but it’s not. You can glue wings on a horse, but it will never be a butterfly.
I’m fighting a losing battle. I will never be good, and my son will ultimately pay the price for my sins on either edge of the sword. Hopefully he is stronger than I and can be a better person. I wish I could teach him. I wish I could be around to see it.
And that’s how it happens. It seeps into every thought and every moment of your life until you are convinced that this world and the people in it are better off without you. You convince yourself that the pain of missing you will fade from their memories and they will find some sort of unicorn happiness without you. The fear and doubt and loneliness beat at your door until you go mad from the noise and finally let it in and stomp all over you. It warps and amplifies your faults and snuffs out everything good about you.
Eventually it’s just too much, you’re too tired, and it just doesn’t seem worth it anymore.
I wrote this several days ago and, at the time, I felt for the first time in almost a decade that I truly was ready to die. I was convinced that I could not go on. I felt it in my bones that it was time. It scared the shit out of me.
Why am I telling you all this? Because it’s several days later, and I don’t feel anywhere near what I felt the night I wrote this. Not even close. In the moment, it was so real, so concrete. But now? The clouds have passed and I see beauty again.
Let this be a moment of hope for anyone suffering right now. No matter how sure you are that death is the answer, I can tell you it is not. In a day, or two, or ten, or however many it takes, things will change. Let them. Don’t hang onto your need to be right and end up denying yourself a better day.
You Are Enough
You Are Not Alone
Always Keep Fighting